All That Remains

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's not a fantasy

Submitted: May 18, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 18, 2016



I wish that you’d walk in again,

With a big smile on your face.

I wish that I could talk to you again,

And stay up all night ‘till 6am,

Just like we used to.

Now instead I’ve got sleepless nights,

That are way too quiet for my taste.


I don’t like it that you’re dead,

I’m waiting to wake up from a bad dream.

I still remember when I got the call,

That they found your car,

Out by the old abandoned mall.


No one ever asked you,

If you were doing alright.

They thought that all of your writing,

Was nothing but fantasy and fiction.

But the words were real,

And the pain was real.


I’ve got no one to play with now,

You were always the one that I turned to.

Now you’re gone, and I,

Cry myself to sleep at night.


You used to write me everyday,

Then slowly, it became less and less.

Then one day you never replied,

That’s the same day I got that call.


I come and visit you everyday,

Ever since you were declared DOA.

But it’s not the same.


I lost the last piece of my soul

When you died.

The last embers got stomped out.

The last star flickered and died out.


They thought that you were talking,

About someone else in what you wrote.

But in reality you were mourning,

Mourning the death of yourself.

Or the part, of yourself,

That got swallowed up

Into the oblivion.


I didn’t know how deep it went,

If I could turn back time, I’d fix it all.

But I can’t, I can’t.


It’s not the same now that you’re dead,

I’ve got no one to play with now,

You were the one I always turned to.

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